DOMINGO APPEARS
The carriers had stopped in a deserted village one morning after a
long and arduous march from the mission station, when Ormsgill, lying
in the hot white sand, looked quietly at Nares, who sat with his back
against one of the empty huts.
"If I knew what the dusky image was thinking I should feel
considerably more at ease," he said. "Still, I don't, and there's very
little use in guessing. After all, we are a long way from grasping the
negro's point of view on most subjects yet. They very seldom look at
things as we do."
Nares nodded. "Anyway, I almost fancy we could consider what he has
told us as correct," he said. "It's something to go upon."
The man he referred to squatted close by them, naked to the waist,
though a few yards of cotton cloth hung from his hips. An old Snider
rifle lay at his side, and he was big and muscular with a heavy,
expressionless face. As Ormsgill had suggested, it certainly afforded
very little indication of what he was thinking, and left it a question
whether he was capable of intelligent thought at all. They had come
upon him in the deserted village on the edge of a great swamp an hour
earlier, and he had skillfully evaded their questions as to what he
was doing there.
It was an oppressively hot morning, and a heavy, dingy sky hung over
the vast morass which they could see through the openings between the
scattered huts. It stretched back bare and level, a vast desolation,
towards the interior, with a little thin haze floating over it in
silvery belts here and there, and streaking the forest that crept up
to its edge. The carriers lay half-asleep in the warm sand, blotches
of white and blue and ebony, and the man with the rifle appeared
vacantly unconcerned. Time is of no value to the negro, and one could
have fancied that he was prepared to wait there all day for the white
men's next question.
"It's not very much," said Ormsgill reflectively, referring to his
comrade's last observation. "Domingo, it seems, is up yonder--but
there are one or two other facts, which I think have their
significance, in our possession. Herrero is coming up behind us, and,
though there are no other Portuguese in the neighborhood, we find this
village empty. I should very much like to know why the folks who lived
in it have gone away, and I fancy our friend yonder could tell us.
Still, it's quite certain that he won't."
"Herrero evidently means to join hands with Domingo," suggested Nares.
"It's quite possible, too, that he will do what he can to prevent us
buying the six boys from the Headman, who, it's generally believed,
does a good deal of business with him. It's a little unfortunate. In
another week the thing might have been done."
Ormsgill nodded as one who makes his mind up. "When in doubt go
straight on--and, as a matter of fact, we can't afford to stop," he
said. "Provisions are going to be a consideration. We'll push on and
try what can be done with Domingo and the Headman before Herrero comes
up."
He turned to the negro, and Nares amplified his question.
"Yes," said the man, with the faintest suggestion of a grin, "I know
where Domingo is, and if you come to our village it is very likely
that you will see him. I will take you to the Headman for the pieces
of cloth you promise."
He got up leisurely, and Ormsgill, who called to the boys, looked at
Nares as they plodded into the forest that skirted the swamp.
"It's quite certain the man was waiting for somebody, and it wasn't
Herrero, or he wouldn't have gone away," he said. "That naturally
seems to suggest he might have been on the lookout for us. In that
case I should very much like to know what was amusing him."
It was not to be made clear until some time later, and in the
meanwhile they pushed on for a week through straggling forest with all
the haste the boys were capable of, though Ormsgill's face grew
thoughtful when they twice passed an empty village. The fact had its
significance, for little labor recruiting had been done in that strip
of country. Still, its dusky inhabitants had apparently forsaken it,
and it became more evident that something unusual was going on. Once
only they met a native, or rather he blundered upon their camp when
they lay silent in the thin shadow of more open bush on a burning
afternoon, and their guide roused himself sharply to attention when a
patter of footsteps came out of the stillness. Somebody was evidently
approaching in haste, and Ormsgill glanced at Nares in warning when
the negro who lay close beside them rose to a crouching posture and
drew back the hammer of his old Snider rifle. It was clear that
strangers were regarded with suspicion in that country. Then the man
drew one foot under him, and sat upon it with the arm that supported
the rifle on his knee, and an unpleasantly suggestive look in his
heavy face. One could have fancied that he meant to kill, and Ormsgill
stretching out a hand laid it on his comrade's shoulder restrainingly.
"Wait," he whispered. "In the meanwhile it's not our business."
Nares waited, but he felt it become more difficult to do so as the
footsteps grew plainer. He could hear the little restless movements of
the boys, but he had eyes for little beyond the ominous half-naked
figure clutching the heavy rifle. It dominated the picture. Tall
trunks, trailing creepers, and clustering carriers grew indistinct,
but he was vaguely conscious that there was an opening between the
leaves some sixty yards in front of him, and his heart throbbed
painfully with the effort the restraint he laid upon himself cost him.
Then a dusky figure appeared in the opening, and stopped a moment,
apparently in astonishment or terror, while Ormsgill was sensible of a
sudden straining after recollection. The man was leanly muscular and
dressed as scantily as any native of the bush, but there was something
in his appearance that was vaguely familiar. In the meanwhile he was
also conscious that their guide's arms were stiffening rigidly, and
when the man's cheek sank a little lower on the rifle stock he let his
hand drop from Nares's shoulder. As it happened, he was close behind
the negro, and in another moment would have clutched him.
Just then, however, the stranger sprang forward and a little acrid
smoke blew into Ormsgill's eyes. There was a detonation and he
contrived to fall with a hand on the ground instead of upon the
crouching negro with the rifle. When he looked up again the man who
had narrowly escaped from the peril by his quickness was running like
a deer, and vanished amidst a crash of displaced undergrowth, while
their guide flung back his rifle breech with clumsy haste. When he
turned round there was no sign of the stranger and Ormsgill was
quietly standing on his feet. Only a few seconds had elapsed since the
man had first appeared.
The guide made a little grimace which was expressive of resignation as
he turned the rifle over and shook out the cartridge, and in another
minute or two they were going on again. When he moved a little away
from them Ormsgill looked at Nares.
"It's probably just as well our friend does not know I meant to spoil
his aim," he said. "I haven't the least notion why he wished to shoot
that man, and very much wish I had, but I can't help fancying that
I've seen him before--at one of the Missions most likely. I should be
glad if anybody could tell me what he is doing here."
There was nobody who could do it except, perhaps, their guide, but
Ormsgill surmised that he was not likely to supply him with any
information. He was not to know until some time later that the man in
question had once served Herrero, who had beaten him too frequently
and severely, and that as a result of this he met Pacheco the
Government messenger in a deserted village after another week's
arduous journey. In the meanwhile he pushed on, limping a little,
through marsh and forest until their guide led them into a large
native village where he expected to find the last of Lamartine's boys.
This one, at least, was not deserted. In fact, it appeared unusually
crowded and, as Ormsgill was quick to notice, most of its inhabitants
were armed. He had, however, little opportunity of noticing anything
else, for he was led straight into the presence of its ruler, who sat
on a low stool under a thatched roof raised on a few rickety pillars
in the middle of the village. He was dressed in a white man's duck
jacket, worn open, and a shirt; and every person of consequence in the
place had gathered about him. The guide presented the newcomers
tersely, and it seemed to Ormsgill that the manner in which he did it
was significant.
"They are here," he said. "I have done as I was bidden."
The Headman spent some time examining the collection of the sundries
they offered him and made a few indifferent attempts to restrain the
rapacity of his retainers, who desired something, too. Then he asked
Ormsgill his business, and nodded when the latter explained it
briefly.
"The six boys are certainly here," he said. "Still, I do not know just
now if I can sell you them. That will depend--" Nares understood from
the next few words that he desired to be a little ambiguous on this
point. "You have, it seems, some business with Domingo, too?"
Nares said it concerned the boys in question, but as the labor
purveyor had no claim upon them the matter could be arranged with the
Headman, who grinned very much as the guide had done, while a curious
little smile crept into the faces of some of the rest.
"Then," he said, "I think he will be here in a day or two. Some of my
people have gone for him, but I am not sure that he will have much to
tell us when he comes. In the meanwhile you will stay with us a few
days, and when I am ready to talk about the boys again I will send for
you."
He made a sign that the interview was over, and several of his
followers who were armed escorted the white men and their boys to the
hut set apart for them. They left them there with a plainly worded
hint that it would be wise of them not to come out of it, and when
they went away Ormsgill looked at Nares.
"I suppose you're not sure what that Headman really meant," he said.
"A man naturally has you at a disadvantage when he doesn't wish to
make himself very clear and talks in a tongue you don't quite
understand. I wish I knew exactly why he chuckled."
Nares looked thoughtful. "He seemed to know we meant to visit him."
"It's evident. How I don't quite understand. We traveled fast. Still,
he did know. In the meanwhile we can only wait."
They waited, somewhat anxiously, for several days, knowing that
Herrero, whose presence promised to complicate affairs, was drawing
nearer all the while. There was, however, no other course open to
them, for when they attempted to leave the hut a big man armed with a
matchet who kept watch outside informed them it was the Headman's
pleasure that they should stay there until he was at liberty to talk
to them.
At last one morning word was brought them, and Ormsgill looked about
him in astonishment when they walked into the wide space in the midst
of the straggling village. All round it stood long rows of dusky men,
most of whom were armed, but only a small and apparently select
company sat under the thatched roof in the shadow of which the Headman
had previously received them.
"There is something very unusual going on. Half these men seem to be
strangers, and they have Sniders," he said. "I expect Domingo could
tell how they got them, but I don't seem to see him." Then he touched
his comrade's shoulder. "I fancy we can expect something dramatic.
There's a man yonder we have met before."
Nares felt that the scene was already sufficiently impressive. The
strip of empty sand in front of him flung up a dazzling glare. The sky
the palm tufts cut against was of a harsh blue that one could scarcely
look upon, and the village was flooded with an almost intolerable
brilliancy which flashed upon glittering matchets and Snider barrels.
It also smote the massed white draperies and flickered with an oily
gleam on ebony limbs and the sea of dusky faces turned expectantly
towards the group beneath the thatch. Most of the men there sat on the
ground, but there were two seated figures, the village Headman, and
the Suzerain lord of his country, the old man they had met already, on
a slightly higher stool. He, at least, was dressed in dignified
fashion in a long robe of spotless cotton, and a few men with tall
spears stood in state behind him. His face was impassively grim, and
Nares's heart beat a trifle faster as his eyes rested on him, but at
the same time he was sensible of an expectancy so tense that it drove
out personal anxiety. He almost felt that he was watching for the
opening of the drama from a place of safety.
In the meanwhile he moved towards the thatch with his comrade until
they stopped a few yards' distance from the Suzerain, who leaned
forward a little and looked at Ormsgill steadily. He was of commanding
presence, but there was something in his attitude which suggested that
he regarded this stranger as an equal, though he was lord of that
country, and the other stood before him, a spare, lonely figure in
white duck, with nothing in his hands.
"The Headman has told me your business, and it seems it is very much
the same as when I last talked to you," he said. "You are, I believe,
not a friend of those other white men who have persecuted me?"
Ormsgill turned to Nares. "You can tell him that we are both
proscribed," he said. "Make it quite clear. I don't think there's any
reason to be anxious about his handing us over to the folks at San
Roque."
Nares explained, and the old man made a little gesture. "Then," he
said, "you shall have the six boys, and it is not my will that you
offer the Headman anything for them. Domingo stole them--and we have
satisfied our claim on him. Still, I do not know yet whether you will
be permitted to go away with them. In the meanwhile there is another
matter."
Nares made out the gist of it, and as he hastily explained the old man
raised his hand. "You have business with Domingo, and there are two
other white men who have come here to meet him. Let them come
forward."
Somebody passed on the order, and there was a murmur of voices and a
stirring of the crowd as a little group of men strode out of it. In
front walked the Boer Gavin, a tall, lean figure in travel-stained
duck with a heavy rifle cradled in his arm, and his manner was
unconcerned. Behind him came Herrero, little, and yellow-faced,
looking about him furtively, while a line of dusky men half of whom
were armed plodded after them, obviously uneasy. The Suzerain sat
impassively still, and looked at them in a curious fashion when they
stopped not far from him.
"You have come here to meet Domingo. You are friends of his?" he said.
Herrero hesitated, but his companion laughed when an interpreter
repeated the question.
"You can say we came to meet him, in any case," he replied.
"Was that wise?" asked the old man, and his voice had a jarring ring.
"Still, as you have come you shall see him."
Then he smiled grimly, and made a sign to some of those behind. Again
there was a stirring of the crowd, and Nares felt his nerves thrill
with expectancy. He looked at Ormsgill, who was standing very still
with empty hands at his side, and afterwards saw Gavin, the Boer,
glance sharply round and change his grip on the heavy rifle. In
another moment there was a very suggestive half-articulate murmur from
the assembly, and then an impressive stillness as two men came forward
bearing between them a heavy fiber package slung as a hammock usually
is beneath a pole. They laid it down, and while Ormsgill and Gavin
moved forward at the Headman's sign one of them took something out of
it. He held it up, and Nares gasped and struggled with a sense of
nausea, for it was a drawn and distorted human face that met his
shrinking gaze.
"They've killed him!" he said hoarsely.
Ormsgill stood rigidly still. "Yes," he said, "it's Domingo.
Considering everything one could hardly blame them."
Then the stillness was sharply broken. A cry rose from the assembly as
Herrero's boys turned and fled. Their leader shrank back pace by pace
from the old man's gaze, and then wheeling round sped after them. As
he did so somebody shouted, and a couple of Sniders flashed. Their
crash was lost in a clamor, and odd groups of men sprang out into the
open space. Then Nares saw Gavin running hard come up with his comrade
and grasp his shoulder. He drove him before him towards one of the
larger huts while the Snider bullets struck up little spurts of sand
behind them.
Nares set his lips, and held his breath as he watched them. The
shadowy entrance of the hut was not far away, but it seemed impossible
that they could reach it before one, at least, of them was struck.
Herrero, blind with fear, seemed to flag already, but Gavin drove him
on, and Nares could see that his face was set and grim. They went by a
cluster of negroes running to intercept them, and the tall man in the
white duck seemed to fling his comrade forward into the hut. Then he
spun round pitching up the heavy rifle. There was a flash and a
detonation, and Ormsgill heard a curious droning sound as if a bee had
passed above his head. In another second a man who stood close at his
Suzerain's side lurched forward with a strangled cry. Then Gavin
sprang into the hut, and when the old man made a sign four of his
retainers laid hands on Ormsgill and his companion. They were big
muscular men, and Nares looked at Ormsgill, who submitted quietly.
"It's horrible," he said.
Ormsgill made a little gesture. "They brought it upon themselves. I'm
a little sorry for Gavin, but I can't get away."
It was perfectly evident. Their captors held them fast, pinioning
their arms with greasy black hands, and there were two to each of
them, while there are very few white men who have the negro's physical
strength, at least if they have been any time in that climate. Nares
gasped and felt his heart throb furiously, as he waited with his eyes
fixed on the hut.